Rafael's Convenient Proposal

Driving into the city from the airport, Mallory thought she’d never seen anything as romantic as Lisbon against a twilight sky. Draped over seven hills with the Tagus river flowing through, the sight enchanted her. She said as much to Lianor who’d picked her up outside the terminal in a silver Jaguar.

The other woman nodded. “If you think this is beautiful, wait till you see my family’s home overlooking the Atlantic. That’s where you’ll be staying while you’re here. It’s just a half hour from Lisbon on the Estoril coast with its own private beach.”

“It sounds heavenly.”

“Do you want to stop for something to eat first?”

“Thank you for offering, but they served a meal on the plane before we landed. I’m still full.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Positive. Right now I just want to absorb everything.”

“That’s how I felt when I flew to Los Angeles for the training session. After it was over and you took me to the airport, I couldn’t resist spending a few days in San Francisco. The plane landed at about this same time of night. For a moment I thought I’d returned to Lisbon because the two cities reminded me of each other.”

“Me too,” Mallory murmured, “but Lisbon is ancient. That’s what makes it so fascinating. Judging by the success of your first quarter earnings, putting the shop in the medieval part of the city was the right decision.”

“I know it was. We’re always busy, and getting busier.”

“That’ll be music to Liz’s ears. She and I discussed the store’s location with the marketing and sales departments at length. I’m glad the company decided to take the risk, and I’m particularly glad they hired you.”

“I’m the one who’s thrilled.”

Mallory found herself warming more and more to Lianor. In fact the whole Windemere staff had taken to her. Several of them had even commented that from a distance, she and Mallory looked like they could be sisters with their tall, curvaceous figures and long dark hair.

But upon closer inspection, Lianor’s olive skin and dramatic brown eyes were in direct contrast to Mallory who’d inherited a peaches-and-cream complexion from her mother. Still, the observation had pleased both of them.

“Loving your work is a blessing, Lianor. Not everyone does. Without the right manager that store wouldn’t be doing as well, and certainly not this soon. Liz has arranged for you to receive a bonus in your next paycheck for all your hard work.”

Lianor beamed before whispering her thanks. “When my brother first heard I’d been hired to manage a cosmetic shop on the rua Da Plata, he warned me I’d be out of a job in a few months because it would fold in the old district. Instead the locals and tourists flock to it.”

Mallory’s eyes danced. “From what you’ve told me, your brother is one of the most successful businessmen in the country. But because he’s a man, he doesn’t understand that a woman will stop whatever she’s doing long enough to try out new cosmetics.”

Her friend nodded. “Rafael’s wife, Isabell, the one I told you about who died ten years ago, was a natural beauty. She rarely used makeup or lipstick around him because he didn’t like it. He says all men prefer women au naturel, so he discounts its importance.”

“But he can’t discount the earnings of your shop now, can he.”

Again her friend grinned. “No, and it’s killing him to admit it.”

“In that case, it might be interesting for him to see the results of our marketing department’s studies done among men throughout Europe. I brought a chart with me. The Portuguese statistics, particularly, would be very illuminating if he ever took the time to look at them.”

“Tell me!” Lianor cried like a co-conspirator.

Mallory brushed the hair away from her cheek, getting caught up in the excitement with her. “Only twenty-one percent of Portuguese men prefer their women without lipstick.”

“I knew it!” her companion blurted.

“The other seventy-nine percent is divided; twenty-eight percent love their women in shocking pink lipstick, followed by seventeen percent who love lip gloss. Sixteen percent like pale pink and the softer shades. Ten percent prefer red, and seven percent like beige or brown.”

Laughter broke out on Lianor’s lips. “Rafael’s forte is marketing. As he says, ‘It’s all in the figures.”’

“He’s right. They don’t lie.”

“I can’t wait to show him that chart, but I’m afraid it will only upset him more.”

“Why? Surely he wants you to succeed!”

“It isn’t that. He’s been unhappy ever since I was hired.”

This was the first Mallory had heard of it. “I don’t understand. After college you worked in the marketing division of a large department store several years before joining the company.”

“That’s true, but I wasn’t the manager.”

“With your talents and background, you should have been,” Mallory stated emphatically. “What is it about your being in charge that bothers him so much?”

“That’s not the problem. Simply put, he wants me to get married, settle down and raise a family. You’d have to be a younger sister and Portuguese to understand. It’s a male thing here. He’s my older brother and protective and—”

“Say no more,” Mallory broke in. “I’ve met his type before. They’re alive and well in America too. You would know what I meant if you could have watched the television talk show I was on last night.” She proceeded to tell Lianor about her experience with Jack Hendley.

Lianor nodded. “Sounds like Rafael. He’s afraid I’ll never meet a man as long as I’m running a store, let alone one that sells women’s products. What he doesn’t realize is, I could go out every night of the week, and still not come across a man who truly interests me.”

“My sentiments exactly.” Mallory flashed her a compassionate glance. “In order to placate your brother, you might remind him that part of our new advertising campaign is geared to reaching the male population—that group looking for a special personal gift for his wife, girlfriend, or mother.

“Knowing what the Portuguese men want, the company is prepared to cater to their individual tastes. Assure him you’ll be meeting a lot of male customers as time goes by.”

“Unfortunately Rafael wants that miracle to happen now. Tonight!”

They both broke into laughter.

“It sounds like he loves you a lot,” Mallory observed.

“He does, and it’s mutual.”

Mallory already knew that. No matter the topic of conversation, since she’d first met Lianor, her brother’s name always managed to creep into the conversation.

Lianor flicked her another glance. “Your father was so nice and laid-back. Does he ever get upset because you’re not married yet?”

“Maybe,” Mallory murmured honestly, “but neither he nor mom has ever said anything. It’s probably because they didn’t marry until their early thirties. They don’t want to come off sounding like hypocrites.”

“My mother was just nineteen when she married my father. Rafael proposed to Isabell when she was only twenty.”

Rafael again. “What do you think’s the reason he hasn’t remarried?”

Her companion let out a deep sigh. “It isn’t for a lack of women! Most of the time I’m appalled at the lengths they go to in order to capture my brother’s attention. But the plain truth is, he loved Isabell so much, it almost killed him when she died. Since then he’s been devoted to Apolonia, and has buried himself in work.”

Apolonia. The niece with the beautiful name.

“Maybe you need to get busy and find him someone he could love. You know him better than anyone else. If he married again, he might not be quite as concerned about your single status.”